


Cold Cold Man (by Saint Motel)

by AlmondBlossomsTC



Series: the sex one [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Listen. This is for ME, let Hiroko have someone who loves her unconditionslly, let Takaaki have a warm presence in his life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 01:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmondBlossomsTC/pseuds/AlmondBlossomsTC
Summary: No established time frame, but pretty definitively non-Despair AU. Just - what if Kiyotaka’s dad and Yasuhiro’s mom were together? Just kidding. ...unless?





	Cold Cold Man (by Saint Motel)

**Author's Note:**

> This is so different from my normal writing - it’s kindof stream of consciousness ish.

It went without saying that Takaaki Ishimaru had had a long day. He always put in a long day - the precinct was his second home, and he was dedicated to it. The day had been long because he came early and stayed late. Not for the overtime pay, not because he was slow in getting his required tasks done. Because it was his career, and he’d fought to get it, and fought to keep it. 

And yet, he wasn’t about to pretend the long days didn’t exhaust him. They did. Some more than others. This day was a good one mentally, but taxing physically. His legs had started to shake when he got up from his desk and hadn’t stopped even as he took the first step up the stairs in front of the modest home he shared.

He smelled his roommate before he saw her. Cigarette smoke on the air. And sure enough, Hiroko Hagakure was sitting leaned against the front door, most of the way through a smoke. 

When she saw him, she smiled. “Evening, officer,” she greeted, relaxed and husky. 

“Hiroko.” She was blocking his way into their house and seemed in no hurry to get up. “Short shift?”

Stubbing the cigarette, she shrugged. “More medical students than they bargained for today. Things were getting too crowded, so they sent me and a couple of the other nurses home.” 

“When?” Takaaki had to lean on the railing. His legs were threatening to give out from fatigue. 

“An hour or two ago.”

“You’re still in your scrubs.”

“You’re still in your uniform.”

Takaaki grimaced. “You haven’t let me inside to change.”

Hiroko looked him over, taking stock of his shaky legs and, no doubt, his haggard face. Without another word, she pushed off and stood up from the doorstep.

Their eyes met again. Him leaning on the rail, her somehow lounging even while standing. The porch light clicked on.

“You look like hell,” Hiroko murmured, opening the door behind her and offering Takaaki an arm that he refused. “Did you get up and walk around at lunch, or stay at your chair all day again?”

“I walked to the restroom and back.”

Hiroko laughed, rich and deep, teasing him. “Ooh, no wonder you’re tired.”

He didn’t have the strength to bend and untie his fussily knotted laces, but it didn’t matter. She was already kneeling to free him from his work shoes and slip on his house slippers. 

“Thank you.”

“Always, hun.”

When she stood again, he was already bent as best he could to reach her for a kiss. She met his lips with an appreciative hum, tasting like smoke and warm skin. 

“Dinner?”

“I could eat.”

“We still have some of the soup from yesterday, or rice and chicken.”

“Ah, sorry - I finished off the chicken for lunch.”

Their conversation, domestic and relaxed, carried them into the kitchen. Hiroko tried to herd Takaaki towards a chair, but getting into the warmth of the house and his comfortable slippers was already helping his pain levels. Not to mention the soothing effect her presence always seemed to have on him. 

So, as the two of them often did, they wound up leaning against one another at the kitchen counter. Takaaki fussed with the rice cooker and fetched things off the higher shelves when Hiroko requested them, and she sliced more vegetables and tofu to add in with the miso. They barely broke contact throughout heating the soup and dishing their portions out, staying as close as possible until reluctantly breaking apart to sit across from one another at their little table. 

Takaaki mixed his soup in with the rice so he had something solid to take his medication with. Hiroko added to her miso what was, in his opinion, a ludicrous amount of dried seaweed. Once they’d asked about each other’s day, an old debate was brought up and lazily prodded at. 

“You know, Kaaki-“ Hiroko slurped at her soup. “I’ve been reading some more of the medical journals from work. There’s a study out now about CBD specifically for fibromyalgia treatment-“

“I’m not going to buy marijuana from your son.”

“Aww. You can get it from somewhere else - I won’t tell him.”

“What’s wrong with what I do now?”

“It might cut down on your acid reflux to take fewer pills.”

Takaaki sighed, not for the first time. “Not all of us enjoy smoking.”

She smiled, reaching across the table to him. “All two of us?”

“The two of us.” He put down his spoon and took her left hand in his. Their rings clinked together.

Her smile turned wicked. “ _ Just _ the two of us.”

A baited hook. Takaaki pretended not to see it, replying, “Yes, as usual. Were you expecting someone else?”

Before, she would have pouted at him, but now, she fell into the game, volleying back, “No, no. But it’s nice to have you to myself like this.”

“More peaceful.” He’d be the first to admit that his son wasn’t a quiet person. Neither was his son’s boyfriend, alter, or brother in law. 

“Very zen.” Hiroko curled her pinky around his, smirk never fading. “You know, it would still be peaceful if we got a cat-”

“We cannot get a cat.”

“Aw.”

He’d lost control of the game by letting her distract him. But… it had been  _ such _ a long day. And he didn’t feel like playing anymore.

With a squeeze, he let go of her hand, finishing the last spoonful of his dinner and clearing his throat. “After I do the dishes, would you be interested in going to bed?”

“Already?” She knew what he meant. He knew she knew. “Are you that tired? I could do the dishes while you go take a rest.”

He gave her a look that must have effectively communicated his exhausted longing, because she took pity and smiled, breaking away from the game as well.

“Let’s both do the dishes, and then go to bed together.”

“I’ll wash, you dry?”

“Sounds like a deal, hun.”

With practiced motions, they moved around each other. Every so often meeting - Hiroko taking the chance to kiss his cheek when he bent to put the tofu back in the fridge, Takaaki squeezing her for a moment on his way past her to fetch a dish towel. Without a word, the kitchen was cleaned up. When Takaaki put the last dish in the cupboard, he turned to find Hiroko there, pinning him against the counter and stretching up on her tiptoes for a kiss. He bent his knees to make it easier on her. 

She’d often joked about wearing high heels around the house so she could kiss him whenever she liked. The first time, he hadn’t recognized it as teasing - Ishimarus, historically, haven’t been the best at  _ not  _ taking things at face value - and he’d told her, “You don’t have to do that. Just ask me to bend down, and I always will.”

The laugh she’d let out was one that he tucked away in his breast pocket for difficult days. “That’s good. I hate heels anyway.”

So, when she stretched up to press their lips together, he bent down towards her. Her hand came up to his cheek, cupping it briefly and punctuating the long kiss with a quick pinch. He frowned against her.

“Don’t do that.”

“Aw. But you’re just so cute, I want to pinch your cheeks.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“You’re  _ my  _ baby.”

“I’m your husband.”

“Come to bed?”

He leaned forward against Hiroko rather than answering. She laughed again. 

The lazy affection persisted as they did their separate routines. Takaaki took much longer to undress than she did, unbuckling his sock garters and finally shrugging off the shoulder holster he always forgot to leave at the door. At the same time, Hiroko shed her scrubs and was left in a camisole and normal cotton underwear before heading to the bathroom. He would never understand all the steps she took in her skincare routine. 

Once Hiroko had come at him with a little jar of cream and smeared it on his face while he tried to squirm away, feeling like a child getting attacked with sunscreen by a parent.

“I’m going to help with all your wrinkles,” she’d teased, narrowly missing his eye.

“Not unless you have a time machine,” he’d deadpanned back, finally just taking hold of her wrists to stop the onslaught. 

Where she had her creams and masks and odd little implements - eyelash curler?? - he had his medications. Painkillers, SSRIs, analgesics. Together they filled the cabinet of their modest bathroom. 

He finished stripping down as she came out, ointment wet under her eyes and toothpaste on her breath. “I’m going to go have another smoke,” she told him, ruffling his hair where he sat on the bed. “Why don’t you wash up and let me take care of you tonight?”

Where long before he may have stiffened up at her touch, now he relaxed toward her hand, nodding wordlessly. Hiroko bent and kissed his hairline, smiling as usual, before heading for the porch again.

“Put pants on.”

“Mm, spoilsport.”

“You’re going to get mosquito bites!”

“I’ll live. Go wash up, Kaaki bear.”

“Hngh.”

Takaaki took his turn in the bathroom, washing up thoroughly and drying before taking a long moment to himself, leaning on the counter. Not brooding, not worrying; not thinking much at all. He found himself smiling. 

Then he heard the front door open again - Hiroko returning. He took stock of himself, stretched what he could, and went out to join her in the bedroom.

He frowned when he saw that she had not, in fact, put on pants for her journey outside. But as he was nude himself, and it was now a moot point, he said nothing. He did scoff when Hiroko gave him a far-too appreciative look; he knew what he looked like and it was nothing to write home about. 

The same could not be said about Hiroko, who, as she pulled her camisole off, looked wonderful. She always did. But with her arms stretched over her head, yawning widely, she was perfect. God, he loved her. Stretch marks covered her thick thighs, soft belly, and hanging breasts, silver in the light of the bedside lamp. Her legs were stubbly - he’d brought it up once and she’d scraped a nail over his stubborn five o’clock shadow, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He sat on the bed and she bellyflopped next to him. He reached for her hair out of habit and she allowed him to lace his fingers into it and hold. Relaxed, he laid back alongside her, daring to lean in for a quick kiss. 

Shuffling closer across the sheets, Hiroko let her naked body meet his. “So, hon. Still want me to be in charge tonight?”

As always, he tried to remain stoic. As usual, he failed. “Yes please. If you’re able.”

For a moment, he compared his two marriages in his head. Thinking about his first wife, a daughter of one of his father’s connections, another expectation on him as an Ishimaru, the mother of his only son who left them both behind when the scandal hit. Thinking about Hiroko, her opposite in every way.  _ His _ opposite in every way as well. Youthful where he was decrepit - though they were both in their 40s - and relaxed where he was consistently uptight. Someone who wanted him, not the now-worthless Ishimaru name. 

It was a train of thought that lingered briefly in his mind. Then she kissed him again, and it was gone, replaced with only warmth. 

**Author's Note:**

> There’s a second chapter to this buried somewhere in my brain, and once I locate a shovel and dig it out I’ll slap it up here  
But for now, I’ll give you a hint  
Men get pegged


End file.
